Girl, Lost
by Shelbecat
Summary: Jimmy takes Marissa on a fatherdaughter camping trip and finally does something to help her.


**Girl, Lost  
for DQMP7 (beingothrwrldly)  
by shelbecat**

**Challenge Sentence:** Jimmy takes Marissa on a father/daughter weekend trip.

When he sees her standing there, he tries hard to ignore the sallow tinge to her skin.

For a moment, just as he takes her duffle from her hand, he remembers her as a little girl.  Pigtails pulled tight on her head, face smeared with mint chocolate chip ice cream.  A quick memory of Julie huffing, disgusted, flashes through his mind and he stops.  Don't think about the bad stuff.  Only the good.

"Hey Mariss, you wanna stop for a cone before we hit the road?"

His baby morphs into a near adult before his eyes.  Hair hanging straight by her face, she tucks a strand behind her ear and smiles.

"Sure.  Let's go to the place on Biltmore.  They have the low-carb kind."

Ice cream, propane, and one waterproof tarp (just in case), later they are on the Pacific Coast Highway, streaming towards Leo Carrillo State Park and a weekend away from life.  She's clutching her book bag in her lap, the strap woven tightly around one hand.

"Why don't you toss that in the back, Sweetie?"

She glances up and when he looks at her, he almost gasps.  The sun hits the side of her face, rays stretching out to highlight every dip and crevasse.  Her blue eyes are dull, and sunken, like blueberry soufflés that deflated too soon.  He reaches a hand out to squeeze her leg; an unspoken gesture of support that she won't recognize.

She smiles shyly and turns away, mumbling something about her CDs and water.

He turns back to the road and swallows a sigh.  He can't remember when she became a stranger.

She pulls her sweater tight around her shoulders.  She's sitting five feet from the fire and she's cold.  He doesn't understand how to make sense of them anymore.  Father and daughter, once so easy, now…now it's all distance and avoidance.

He reaches for the marshmallows.

"Remember when Caitlyn tried to make these on the stove?"

He pushes one on a stick and hands it to her.  She tosses him a smile.

"Your mother wouldn't even try to clean the stove."

She laughs, and his heart swells.  "She just bought a new one!"

For a moment he can see his daughter—the 12-year-old who would crawl into his lap and beg him to make s'mores before bed.

He watches her pick a small edge off the marshmallow and she's gone again—replaced by a 17-year-old he hardly knows

His third marshmallow burns black in the deep heat of the glowing logs.  He laughs as he blows out the flame on his stick, glancing over to check on her progress.

She's picking the coating off her marshmallow, taking a bite then tossing the rest in the fire.

He frowns and wonders if he would have had more success if he'd brought granola.  He doubts it.  He can't remember the last time he saw her eat a full meal.

He tries to talk about Ryan but it's clear from the outset that she won't respond.  He knows the kid got another girl pregnant, and that is definitely not the kind of boyfriend he wants for his daughter.  But then her last boyfriend was drunk when he crashed his car into a tree.  And of course she had Oliver holding a gun to her head a few months before that.

He eats another marshmallow and asks her if she wants him to drive her to Chino sometime.

She doesn't answer.

Campfire songs fail miserably.  Even his off-key rendition of Kumbaya only earns a half-hearted smile.

"You know, I remember all those times I said I'd take you camping…"

She nods silently.

"I'm sorry I couldn't keep you with me kiddo.  Your Mom…"

"I think I'm going to lie down."

He watches her walk toward the tent and wonders how long he'll have to wait.

Her silhouette is stick-like, her head attached to her shoulder by a pencil-thin line.  He can't figure out why he didn't notice it sooner.  You can't drop 15 pounds in a month; it had to be happening before.

She moves within the tent, the fabric rustling as she searches.  She's growing frantic, soft curses and then a 'Where is it?'

A weary hand rubs his eyes and he glances down.  In the bag at his feet lie two empty bottles of vodka; their contents dumped at the last gas stop they made.  He knew she was troubled, but he thought it was just Ryan leaving.  The biggest problem in a teenager's life is supposed to be her boyfriend, right?

He watches her shadow fling the back pack across the tent, make-up flying through the air.

He takes a deep breath and calls out to her.  "Marissa?"

A pause, then, "Just a minute."

He can hear the tears and says a silent thank you that it's too dark to see them.

"Honey, I think you should come out now."

Silence.

"You're not going to find them.  Come out…I'll help you."

He keeps his arm firmly around her shoulders as they check in.  She's crying but it's not as hard as he thought.  He's helping her; for the first time in his life, he's really, truly helping her.

There are rules, a room, a list of things she can and cannot have, but when he says goodbye an hour later, he feels like she might be happy.

Her eyes glisten with tears and she clings tightly to his shirt.  "Tell…no, don't tell…"

"It's okay kiddo.  You just get better.  Then we'll talk about telling."

She manages a quick nod and a small smile.  She even kisses his cheek before a nurse leads her away.

He's crying when he opens the car door; openly sobbing by the time he starts the engine.  His daughter, his baby, his first-born princess got lost somewhere along the way.  As he wipes his eyes and pulls out of the lot, he looks behind him and imagines her watching him leave.

He hopes he's finally found her.

_The End._


End file.
